A Boon for Bill

by canoncansodoff

Extreme measures are taken to distract Molly long enough for Bill to both neutralize a love potion and ask Harry to help make his engagement to Fleur possible. A kinder, smuttier alternative to Book Six's "An Excess of Phlegm" chapter. H/Hr, Bill/Fleur.

18. Chapter 18: The Day After (Part 2)

Chapter 18: This is Not a Drill (The Day After, Part 2)

A/N: Well it's been a while, eh? Here's an update circa 2021. Hoping that it earns at least an EE from those of you who have been waiting all these years.

This 16k word update still doesn't get us through the day after Harry's birthday, and its focus is far more on Tonks and Remus than HHr or Bill and Fleur. But it's also the front half of a draft chapter that demanded to be split after it hit the 20k mark. So if anyone is reluctant to dive back into this story for fear that it'll take another five years to update again…the next chapter is nearly finished. Just holding off for a bit to see if any of you can find another glaring plot lapse that I'd have to fix. Should have it uploaded within the next few weeks, if any of you want to wait until the story "day" is completed before you dive into this update. Beyond that, I have a completed story outline with another 15k of draft text. In other words, I really want to get "Finish B4B" off of my bucket list.

Still working out whether I'll kill off Voldie in a summary last chapter, or turn that completed story script into a sequel and flesh out the ending in more detail. Probably will depend in part on the muse and reader reactions. And whether I want to dive deeply into my version of magical North America.

If you're long-time reader with a great memory and no need to reread from the start, please note that I've gone back and made some minor changes and edits to earlier chapters for consistency. Nothing earth-shattering. Perhaps the biggest change was pointing out that notice-me-not charmed wrist holsters are standard issue for OotP members and certain well-connected others (e.g. Harry and Hermione). They come in handy at clothing-optional beaches.

Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc. , etc.

oo00OO00oo

On a ferry to Guernsey
English Channel

Having spotted Minerva out of the corner of her eye, Tonks flicked the Scabby Queen towards Kingsley and nudged Remus' shoulder.

"Let me out, Lover Boy," she demanded. "Hestia and I need to suffer the ladies' head again."

The other witch pushed her playing cards forward and followed along. Once inside the women's lavatory, she pretended to powder her nose while Tonks did a privacy check.

"We're clear," the Auror announced, after pushing the last stall door open. "Let's see if Minnie-baby was sending a signal, or just picking her nose."

"Don't know what's worse," said Hestia. "Fishing our wands out of the loo, or out of Mad-Eye's shorts."

Tonks reached behind the toilet basin and smiled with delight.

"They aren't even wet!" she announced.

"Thank Merlin for small favors," Hestia replied.

Nymphadora emerged from the stall and handed Hestia her holstered wand.

"Can't wait to get off this ship," Tonks declared, as she strapped her own wand holster back on.

"Seasick?" Hestia asked.

"No, horny," Tonks replied. "So revved up I might have to take the edge off right here, if you know what I mean."

"Yes, I do. And please…don't."

"No worries…it's more like I'm a little giddy about the opportunities ahead."

"The opportunities to track Harry Potter's pubes across Europe?"

"No, silly," Tonks replied. "The opportunity to finally convince Wolfie to track down mine."

Hestia shook her head as she activated her wand holster's concealing magic.

"You are nothing in not obvious," she stated.

"Actually, I don't think that I've been obvious enough," Tonks countered.

"What's that mean?"

"Well…as long as Remus and I are working undercover as lovers, I was hoping that you might…"

"Help you get Remus under the covers?"

"Just the opposite, actually," Tonks replied with a smirk. "Your family follows the Old Ways, right?"

"Yes, we do. But what has that got to do with…?"

"Did you pack a swim costume?" Tonks asked.

"No."

"Excellent…neither did I."

Hesta put two and two together and chuckled.

"Well after that calendar group shot, I guess I am curious enough about his wand length to help you out…"

The squeal of delight that sprang from Tonks' lips was loud enough to be heard in the ferry's commissary.

Remus glanced over his shoulder towards the washrooms, then turned back to confirm that Kingsley had heard the outburst as well. The Senior Auror nodded, and let out a low-pitched whistle as he shuffled their deck of playing cards.

"Constant Vigilance, Old Chap," he advised. "Constant Vigilance."

oo00OO00oo

Ministry of Magic, London

Dumbledore entered the Ministry's Hall of Records with Harry's addressed booklist in hand. A clerk there respectfully reminded the headmaster that lordships and changes in heads of households were normally announced (and confirmed by magic) at the start of a Wizengamot meeting. There was also no requirement to notify the Ministry in advance of that announcement, and Gringotts bore no obligation to notify the Ministry should an heir slip on their family's signet ring while on bank territory.

A small gathering of clerks huddled to come up a potential work-around that met the headmaster's need. One remembered seeing a self-updating book on genealogy back when she had access to the Ravenclaw lending library. Dumbledore summoned a Hogwarts house elf to retrieve it, and quickly confirmed that Harry was indeed both a lord and the current head of House Potter.

While there was no information within the book on how that happened, what mattered most to Dumbledore was how to undo what had happened. That could only be done by a supermajority vote of the Wizengamot, and that kind of vote could only take place during a Wizengamot meeting. The next regularly scheduled meeting was three weeks away, and an emergency meeting could only be called by joint declaration of the Chief Warlock and the Minister of Magic. This meant that Dumbledore had to do something that he absolutely loathed…ask another powerful wizard to do him a favor.

oo00OO00oo

Ice Station Auyuittuq, Baffin Island
Canada/North American Confederation

Harry was putting away the dishes when Hermione walked back inside the magical tent.

"We're all set," she announced, setting his NAC passport on the counter. "At least for this side of the pond."

"Great. So…Montreal, then?"

Hermione nodded. "The special agent rang up her friend. We're meeting when their consulate opens at nine, so we've got twenty minutes to pack up the tent and change our clothes." She glanced back towards Harry and added, "Or at least for me to change...you're fine."

Harry looked down at his dress shirt and linen trousers.

"We're going to floo to a location where we need to wear muggle clothing?"

"Yes," his girlfriend replied. "The agent's friend is embedded within France's muggle consulate, which is within a muggle office building."

Hermione opened a small chest of drawers, but only found linens.

"Darn, I was hoping maybe…really don't want to have to ask Dobby to bust through the border wards again, just to retrieve another outfit for me..."

"Did you check your buttons?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked down the front of her robe, and shook her head in disbelief.

"So easy to forget," she muttered, as she pulled a specific button from her robe, set it down on the tent's coffee table, and expanded the highly-portable closet.

It only took a few moments to sort through the neatly stacked piles of clothing, lingerie and racy cosplay outfits. Hermione picked out a khaki-colored skirt, a light blue sleeveless blouse, and a fairly modest white lace bra. After emptying her robe pockets onto the table, she pulled that robe over her head…and immediately noticed the silence.

She glanced over her shoulder, and caught her boyfriend gawking at her bum.

"Harry!" she whined.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"We don't have time for that," Hermione declared, as she gently redirected Harry's attempted grope. Nevertheless pleased by the attention, she decided that a bit of teasing was in order, and spun around so that he could watch as she slipped on her bra.

"Hermione!"

The teenaged witch spotted the growing bulge in her boyfriend's trousers and smiled.

"What's the problem?" she asked sweetly.

"I thought you said that there wasn't time?"

"There isn't. I'm just getting dressed," Hermione coyly declared. "It's nothing that you haven't seen before. And nothing that the border guard didn't get to see, for that matter."

Harry closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. "Once again…I'm sorry that you mistakenly fondled my portkey. And I'm sorry that I said the easily-tripped, goblin-set activation phrase and it somehow activated, even though I wasn't holding on to it."

"You don't sound sorry."

"Well there's some frustration in there, I guess," Harry admitted. "Although I really am sorry that Mr. Pervy Parker caught an eyeful."

"Guess I'll just have to think twice before I fondle you again."

"Oh, no!" Harry gasped, using an overly dramatic falsetto voice. He walked over to the coffee table and (taking care not to say a word) pushed the portkey free from the rest of Hermione's pile of stuff.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Setting up a tutorial," he replied cheekily. Pointing towards the front of his trousers, he announced, "This is a boner."

He then pointed towards the portkey and said, "That is a mini-hockey stick."

"Mini-hockey stick…boner. Boner…mini-hockey stick. Please notice the big difference in girth, and the sharp curve of the stick blade that is thankfully absent within my erection."

Having finished buttoning up her blouse during the NSFW lesson, Hermione had a free hand to slug her boyfriend's shoulder.

"You are such an unrepentant lad, Harry Potter…and yes, before you ask, I do still love you…although at the moment I have to wonder why."

Harry laughed as he pulled his girlfriend into a tight embrace.

He offered to show her a reason or three.

She insisted that he wait until they were well away from Mr. Pervy Parker.

oo00OO00oo

Ministry of Magic, London

Dumbledore was quickly shown through for a meeting with Rufus Scrimgeour. The headmaster wasted no time asking the Minister to support a vitally important emergency session of the Wizengamot. When pushed to explain why there was such a compelling need, the headmaster admitted that Harry Potter had fled the country, and offered the addressed letter as proof. He stated that the teenaged wizard had taken up his lordship and gained emancipation, and offered the genealogy book as proof. Dumbledore then claimed that it would be difficult to bring Harry Potter back into the fold so long as he was emancipated, and warned that if the public were to learn that the Chosen One had fled the country, there would be panic in the streets, and a huge crisis created for the Ministry. An emergency session was therefore needed to rescind that emancipation, and set everything to rights.

Rufus sat behind his ornate office desk and quietly listened to Albus' reasoning. Once the headmaster stopped talking, the Minister of Magic opened a desk drawer, retrieved a piece of parchment and pushed it across his desk. It was a notice from Gringotts, saying that an insurance policy benefit had been paid out to the Ministry. And that, as a result, the Minister of Magic now controlled a vault that held 500,000 more galleons than it had held the day before.

When Dumbledore asked what this payout had to do with Harry Potter, Scrimgeour produced a second piece of parchment, and invited the headmaster to read it.

The scroll was a death insurance policy for Harry Potter, with the Ministry the identified beneficiary. The policy had matured when Harry Potter managed to not die before reaching his sixteenth birthday. The reasons for this maturation date were clearly written out…the policy was the Ministry's hedge against Harry Potter's legal right to write out a will, and both the Ministry and the goblins had agreed during the underwriting that this would take place just as soon as it was legally possible.

Dumbledore impatiently skimmed to the end of the scroll, where the fine print identified specific actions taken either by the underwriters (the goblins) or the beneficiaries (the Ministry) that would cause the policy to either instantly mature or be cancelled with prejudice.

Ministry efforts to claw back Harry Potter's ability to write out a legal will after the policy had matured (and been paid out) were near the top of this list (right behind goblin assassination attempts). The headmaster was more than smart enough to figure out why… if the death insurance policy paid out when Harry turned 16, but the Ministry then declared him unable to write a legal will until he turned 17, they could still seize the Potter estate if he died sometime within those twelve months.

Gringotts had also been smart enough to game out that potential scenario, and had insisted that this possibility be identified as a policy-cancelling proscription. The penalty for violating the not-so-fine-print was the policy pay-out plus 25%. And unless the headmaster could replace the 625,000 galleons that the goblins would claim in a heartbeat, Scrimgeour refused to help him violate the policy terms.

Knowing that he lacked access to that kind of money (unless, ironically, the lordship was revoked and he stood to reclaim some control over the Potter estate), Dumbledore expressed his disappointment with the Minister's intransigence, and headed off to Gringotts to see if he might have better luck making the goblins see reason.

oo00OO00oo

Montreal

"I'm glad that's sorted out," Hermione stated, as they walked out of the French consulate.

Harry nodded as he readjusted the tent bag's shoulder strap. "Guess we'll never know if the French border's detention cells are any nicer than the NAC's."

"Shush," Hermione admonished.

"Oh, right," Harry replied, looking around the office tower hallway for potential eavesdroppers.

The teenaged wizard thought they were in the clear once they entered an empty lift car and its doors closed. But he was shushed again.

"What now?"

"I'm trying to figure out…well, yes. I suppose that does make sense."

"What makes sense?"

Hermione pushed a button labeled negative one.

"Using numbers instead of letters," she replied as the car began to descend. "Sidesteps the French or English issue."

"Where's the zed, then?"

Hermione chuckled. "Back home in Europe… in North America, the first floor is the same as the ground floor. So street level is 1, and -1 must mean the lower level."

"Ah…so why didn't we just floo to the bank, again?"

"Because we've been cooped up…literally…for most of the past ninety minutes and I fancy a walk?"

"That detention cell wasn't all that confining, once Dobby brought us the tent."

"And brought me something to cover up my baps."

Harry let out a deep sigh. "Do I need to apologize again for the goblin-created portkey, and the goblin-issued activation phrase that I had no control over?"

"A good carpenter never blames his tools of transportation," Hermione quipped.

The bantering stalled when the elevator stopped to pick up passengers on the building's fourth floor (which was really the third, as far as Harry was concerned). They were quickly reminded that they were in a French-speaking section of North America when the two women started up a quiet conversation. Hermione also confirmed that the French-Canadian accent was very… well… "Thick" was one way of putting it.

Not that she was brave enough to publicly voice that observation within the Province of Quebec.

The two women got off of the lift at ground level. Harry stuck his head out of the car just enough to catch a glimpse of the outside street. Once the doors closed, he said, "Looked like a nice day."

"As long as we are in Montreal, we might as well do a little sightseeing,"

"Below ground?" Harry asked.

Hermione waited to respond until the lift car's doors opened and they walked out into a huge, subterranean, multi-level muggle shopping district. She gestured towards the elevator doorway and said, "Bienvenue dans la ville souterraine."

oo00OO00oo

Diagon Alley, London

Albus Dumbledore was not a happy camper. Or a happy re-established Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, for that matter.

He was standing just inside the doors of Gringotts, at the end of a very long line of wizards and witches.

He was also standing alongside a sign that read, "From this spot, your estimated wait time to speak with a teller is 5 hours."

His positions of power within the wizarding world provided no courtesies within the bank's marble walls. A halberd-wielding hobgoblin had insisted that he wait his turn…almost as forcefully as Rufus Scrimgeour had refused to help him revoke Harry Potter's lordship and associated emancipation.

And the fact that the goblins were to blame for the Minister of Magic's position made the sting of waiting at the end of the teller line that much more infuriating.

Albus decided that he had much better things to do than to waste five hours of his unfortunately shortened lifetime at Gringotts. So he left the bank grounds just long enough to send a messenger patronus to Molly Weasley, instructing her to come the bank and hold his place in line while he attended to Order business elsewhere.

That place in line was three wizards longer by the time he returned inside the bank, but that would be Molly's problem, rather than his.

oo00OO00oo

St Julian's Pier
St Peter Port Harbour, Guernsey

When the Guernsey-bound ferry arrived at its destination, the eight members of the Order of the Phoenix queued to disembark. Mad-Eye had been tight-lipped about what would happen next, so the Weasley twins and the card-playing "couples" held back, and followed Moody and McGonagall down the gangway, past the tourist stands and information booths, and behind a large obelisk that commemorated the island's liberation from German occupation.

"Be quick about it!" the retired Auror hissed, as the Weasley twins brought up the rear.

"Is there a reason why we couldn't have met like this on the boat?" Fred asked.

"Yes, there is a reason," Mad-Eye stated (declining to elaborate.)

"How about a reason why you couldn't have given our wands back now, rather than make us fish them out of the loo?" George added.

"Constant vigilance!" the retired Auror barked. "What if we had been attacked as we left the ferry?"

"Attacked by whom…those pushy touts?" Hestia asked.

"Just stow it…we still don't have a good excuse to give if we're spotted together, and time is wasting."

"Get on with it, Alastor," Minerva pleaded.

"Right, then…a quick briefing," the retired Auror began. "This island is controlled by British Muggles and French Magicals." He pointed towards the east and said, "That's the French mainland, over there. Not much of a target if you haven't been there before and need to do line-of-sight apparition, but as long as the weather is clear you should be fine."

"What if the fog rolls in?" Tonks asked.

"Then you swim."

"Aren't there ferries?"

"Sure, as long as you can wait for the next one in an emergency."

"What kind of emergency should we expect?" Fred asked.

Moody scowled. "Years ago, Voldemort used this island as a staging area for recruits from the Continent. Who is to say that he isn't doing that today?"

"So why did you bring us here?"

"Because it's just as good of a launch point for us," Moody barked.

Dumbledore had told Mad-Eye to bring the Continent-bound members of the Order to Guernsey, and to wait there for further instructions. This was because the mapped locations of Harry Potter's pubes kept moving (in some cases hundreds of miles per hour). So once the Order members were within apparition range of the mainland, the headmaster would begin sending out iterative search instructions by messenger patronus, using the large map on his office wall as a guide.

Guernsey only had a handful of permanent magical residents, and there weren't any magical pubs or businesses on the island. It was, however, a day-trip destination for French magicals who could apparate. So while they were on the island, the magical gendarmes in Paris wouldn't be too alarmed if their "Big Board" detected magic use, so long as the detected magic involved the kinds of spells that magical tourists might use, cast in the kind of places that magical tourists might visit.

The patronus charm was definitely something that would draw attention, since it was so hard to cast, and so rarely needed (at least in countries where the risk of dementor encounters was low). Receiving an inbound patronus message was fine, though, and the magic behind the messenger spell would prevent a corporeal patronus from appearing in locations where it might cause unwanted attention.

The next scheduled message from Dumbledore was at six, which was a little less than three hours away. Mad-Eye and Minerva had a room reservation at a local hotel. They were going to check in, and (barring an emergency) would meet the others in the hotel's lounge at fifteen before six. The others were told to head out in their two groups, and kill time by doing something else, somewhere else.

Mad-Eye and Minerva left the group first, hailing a taxi for a ride to their hotel. The Weasley twins then headed out together, in search of the local high street (and new muggle ideas and inventions that might be adapted for sale in their joke shop). Tonks suggested that the remaining couples maintain their cover by snogging behind the memorial. To her frustration, this idea was shot down. So she took a different tack and darted off towards the queue of waiting taxis. The driver at the front of that line jumped out and opened his car's boot.

"Where too, Miss?" he asked.

"The best-hidden beach on this island?"

The driver looked out towards the water, then checked his watch.

"With the tide out, I know just the place," he said with a smile.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Remus whined, as the other three caught up to Tonks.

The undercover Auror gave the driver her bag, then turned back towards her companions and smiled.

"Oh Sweetheart," she said sweetly, as she pulled Hestia into a hip bumping side-hug. "Didn't you both say that you couldn't wait to see us in our new swim costumes?"

Kingsley turned towards Hestia and arched his eyebrow. When she winked at him he chuckled, shook his head in disbelief, and reached for the handle of her wheeled case.

"Give up while you're behind, Remus," he suggested, in his regal baritone.

Once he was behind the wheel, the driver asked, "So where are you folks staying tonight?"

"Erm…we haven't quite decided," Remus replied, expanding their cover story on the fly. "You see, we were delayed this morning, and missed the ferry to Aldernay."

"Sorry to hear that," the driver replied. "Might be best if you found lodging sooner, rather than later…it is the weekend, and you won't be wanting to bring all your bags to the beach."

"Oh, we've dragged those wretched cases this far," said Tonks. "And I really, really want to get some sun on my bum."

"Tonks!" Remus chided lightly.

"Would it be a problem if we did bring our bags to the beach?" asked Hestia.

"Yes, Miss," the driver replied. "That is, if you really want to visit the best-hidden beach on Guernsey."

"Bit of a walk?" Shack asked.

"Yes, Sir…La Jaonnet Bay is about a ten-minute walk from the road," the driver replied. "But that's just the start."

"Before…?"

"Before you walk down 218 steps, climb down a ladder, and scramble over some rocks."

"That's quite a trip," Kingsley quipped. "Is it really worth it?"

The driver nodded. "Spectacular views, once you get there. And it's never crowded, even on holiday weekends."

In the mood for some more play-acting, Hestia squeezed Remus's arm, planted a kiss on his cheek, and announced, "Sounds perfect."

The driver nodded. "It really is Miss, although…you were talking about wearing swim costumes…you should know that this beach is clothing optional."

In the mood for far more than play-acting, Tonks squeezed Remus's thigh, nibbled on his ear, and announced, "Even more perfect!"

oo00OO00oo

The Underground City
Montreal

Harry and Hermione used a map provided by the French magical diplomat to navigate the labyrinth of tunnels that made work commutes more tolerable during Canadian winters. The storefront displays of the muggle shops and restaurants that lined those tunnels were tempting, but with a destination firmly in mind Hermione was content to keep a running mental list for future trips.

The two teens were heading towards the Montreal branch office of Gorechunks, to learn more about Harry's holdings at the goblin-run bank. Most of the Potter family wealth was held in Gringotts vaults and managed by Gringotts goblins, but they also had some long-standing accounts at Gorechunks. Harry's liegeman didn't know the details about these accounts, because Gringotts didn't know. The rival banking operations guarded their financial secrets as fiercely as they defended their territories.

The path to the bank was underground, because the bank and magical business district were themselves located underground. The district was much older than the muggle underground city, having been built around the same time that the Ministry of Magic went underground in London. When the much-younger muggle tunnel networks were constructed in the twentieth-century, a magically-concealed access point was built that connected the two. The same French diplomat who had provided their map had given them detailed verbal instructions on how to bypass the concealing charms at this access point.

Montreal's magical district was far smaller than Diagon Alley, particularly when you compared the total populations of the two cities. The main concentration of witches and wizards in French-speaking North America was down the river in Quebec City, and Montreal was more like Hogsmeade in scope and scale. It was also more like Hogsmeade than the Ministry in terms of weather…when Harry and Hermione gained access to the district, they walked from an underground corridor into a seemingly sunlit hamlet beneath a bright blue sky.

The two teenagers took a few moments to appreciate the magic that must have gone into turning underground into the above-grade. The warm sun and light breeze was so convincing that Hermione was half-convinced that the access point was really a portal to a remote aboveground location (the same way that Bill had traveled from the Board of Auditors meeting in London to the Cork Fort in France).

The Gorechunks storefront was much smaller and far less ornate than the Gringotts London office…it actually looked more like a muggle bank, and offered convenient drive-thru service for broom-flying witches and wizards. Once inside the Gorechunks branch, Harry and Hermione found teller lines that were far shorter than those faced by Dumbledore in London. That said, the Gorechunks bank teller that Harry and Hermione encountered displayed customer service skills that were very much on par with his counterparts in Gringotts.

"Account number?" the surly bank teller demanded.

"I'm sorry, I don't know it," Harry replied. "But I was told that my family does have an account with your bank."

"So why don't you get your account number from your family?"

"Erm…because they are all dead?"

"Hrummph!" the teller snorted. "Do you have any personal identification?"

His irritation growing, Harry held his Potter signet ring in front of the goblin's nose.

"Does this work for you?"

The teller glanced at the ring dismissively.

"Your lordship grants you no favors here, wizard," he spat.

Harry was close to losing his patience with the bank teller.

"Would it be more convenient for me to bring my business to your Ottawa branch?" he asked politely.

"The Ottawa branch is currently closed for renovations," the goblin hissed.

"Ah, that's right. Sorry…slipped my mind," Harry replied. "My Gringotts account manager did mention his involvement in some…business negotiations…that were held there."

"Harry!" Hermione hissed.

The teller's eyes narrowed as he gripped the edge of his desk. He smiled thinly, and said, "Gorechunks only accepts government-issued identification."

Harry rolled his eyes as he placed his passport on the teller's desk.

"Why didn't you just say that to start with?" he asked with annoyance.

The goblin teller reached under his desk, pushed a hidden button, then pulled out a jewel-encrusted dagger.

Hobgoblins standing guard in the bank lobby drew their swords and rushed towards Harry and Hermione. Their wands were drawn just as fast, creating a tense standoff…Hermione with her back to Harry's and wand pointed towards the guards, while Harry's wand pointed towards the teller.

"You'll pay with your heads if you dare cast magic here!" the teller shouted.

Most of the other witches and wizards in the bank lobby quickly backed away from the scene. But one witch rushed towards the two teenagers, with a wand in one hand (held downwards) and a badge in the other (held out).

"Officer Rivers, Gendarmerie Magique du NAC," she announced. "Shall we all take a deep breath? No need for anyone to lose their heads."

"Fine…I'll settle for his hand!" the teller barked.

"Just what in Merlin's name is your problem?" Harry hissed.

"I'm sure that this is just a simple misunderstanding," Officer Rivers stated.

"This is a treaty issue, Mountie," the goblin stated, his gaze still zeroed in on Harry. "The penalties…and how they are collected…are well-established."

"Would someone please explain what we did to trigger this kind of response?" Hermione asked.

"Attempted swindle," the teller barked. "I'll mount his wand hand on the wall myself."

"What?" Harry and Hermione both exclaimed.

The magical Mountie frowned. "From what little I happened to overhear, all Mr. Potter attempted to do was establish his identity."

The teller spat on Harry's passport and replied, "The attempt was made using predatory credentials."

"What do you mean, predatory credentials?" Hermione asked.

"We see it all the time…Gringotts testing our defenses with dragon-fodder wizards and their crap forgeries."

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "Please tell me that you gave him your real NAC passport."

"I gave him my real NAC passport," Harry replied simply. "Don't know why this idiot teller thought it was a fake."

"Teller, I can confirm that Mr. Potter is both himself, and a NAC citizen," the Mountie stated. "How did you conclude that his passport was a forgery?"

"They're wearing illegal wand holsters that reek of Gringotts," the teller hissed.

"We've got permits for those," Hermione countered.

A goblin floor manager who had put the name "Potter" together with their accents decided that an intervention was needed . Approaching from the teller's side of the desk, he exchanged a few terse words with the teller in their native tongue. Then he picked up Harry's passport and used the teller's tie to clean off the spit.

Quickly flipping through the document, the supervisor scratched his fingernail across the passport photo. His terse assessment of the passport's authenticity caused the ashen-faced bank teller to drop his dagger and bare his neck.

The guards in front of Hermione sheathed their swords and bowed, while a different pair of hobgoblin guards roughly hauled the teller away.

The supervisor took the teller's spot behind the desk, and bowed to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, I am floor supervisor Bonepicker," he announced. "On behalf of Gorechunks, I wish to sincerely apologize for the poor customer service that you've received this morning."

"All I wanted to do is find out how much money there was in my account," Harry replied.

"Yes, of course, Mr. Potter. I would be happy to assist you. But first…would it be possible for you and your companion to sheath your wands?"

Harry stared at the supervisor for a moment.

"Hermione?"

"Guards have backed off…we're good on my side."

Harry nodded, then glanced briefly towards the dagger on the teller's desk. The supervisor, realizing that he was within arm's reach of it, took two steps back.

"I do hope we can put all this behind us, and start afresh," the goblin said. "Would your honor be satisfied if the bank offered you that dagger on the teller's behalf?"

Harry took another glance at the jewel-encrusted dagger as he slipped his wand back into its holster.

"Officer…?"

"Rivers, Mr. Potter."

"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere during introductions."

"Not a problem."

"This is my second big mess of the morning," Harry stated. "Don't want to create a third…any suggestions?"

"My advice is to accept the offered compensation."

"That won't create any problems?" Hermione asked.

"My assurances that it will not," the bank supervisor stated, as he reached out and slipped Harry's passport underneath the blade.

Recognizing an advancement opportunity, a different teller generated an account statement from his station. He placed the papers in a thick envelope and offered it to the supervisor with a few words. The supervisor nodded.

"This is a full statement of your account and holdings with us," he informed Harry, as the junior teller placed the envelope next to the dagger. "I would be pleased to answer any questions you might have, either now, or during your next visit."

Harry nodded. "Perhaps it would be best if we came back another day."

"Of course," the supervisor replied. He pulled a gold-embossed business card from his waist jacket and placed it on top of the account statement.

"Here is my contact information. If I'm no longer available to serve you, then my successor certainly will."

Finally deciding that Harry's back no longer needed protection (at least for the moment), Hermione turned and got her first look at the supervisor.

"Successor?" she asked, as Harry reached out for the dagger and documents.

"This was on my watch," the stoic goblin explained simply. He reached under the teller desk and pulled out the matching scabbard for the blade.

"Mr. Potter?" the supervisor asked.

"Yes?"

"That is goblin-forged, and very sharp," he said, placing the jeweled sheath on the desk. "I only ask that both items be returned to the former teller's family at the end of your lifetime.

Harry glanced at the Mountie, who nodded her head.

"Agreed," he told the goblin. Admiring the weight of the blade as he carefully slipped it into his scabbard, Harry turned towards Hermione and chuckled.

"Barely a day and I already need to modify my will," he joked.

oo00OO00oo

Grange Lodge Hotel
St Peter Port, Guernsey

Remus started whining just as soon as the door to the smallish double room closed behind them.

"You couldn't wait more than two minutes to mess with Moody's plans, could you Tonks?"

The metamorph shrugged her shoulders, just before diving on top of one of the beds. Turning onto her back, she pushed up onto her elbows and said, "No plan survives first contact with the enemy. And if Mad-Eye had any objections to our booking a room for the night, he should have voiced them before."

"You mean before your actions led us to toss his orders and show up at the rendezvous hotel three hours early?" Kingsley quipped.

"It's not like we crashed his room," Tonks replied. "And if he didn't want us to go overboard on our magic use, he should have realized that we couldn't just shrink our bags down and pocket them. And now that we've booked a room at the same hotel, we can safely apparate directly to it from the beach. So my plan really was better than Mad Eye's."

"Yeah, booked a room," Remus whined. "Didn't care for the look we got at the front desk when we requested just one for the four of us."

"Operational necessity," countered Tonks. "Dumbledore was rather tight with the per diems."

"And you have to admit, Remus…it does fit with our cover story," Hestia added. "Mad Eye said we were to be two very, very friendly couples off to share a beach rental."

"I only remember one very," Lupin countered.

"Oh, lighten up, Remus," said Kingsley. "We're on holiday."

"And you're married, Shack."

"I'm not!" Tonks quipped.

"Me neither!" Hestia added with a giggle. "How about you, Remus?"

The wolf within allowed Remus to respond with a low-pitched, slightly dangerous-sounding growl.

"I am curious about the hidden beach," Kingsley stated. "Now that we've book a private room, wouldn't it be easier just to stay here until it's time to meet the others?"

Tonks released a dismissive burst of air as she sat up and reached for her carry-on case.

"Mad-Eye said we could do magic as long as we act like day-tripping French tourists," she said. "Day-trippers don't need overnight accommodations, and the beach-loving French aren't prudish about their beachwear."

"We survived that long without magic on the ferry," Remus noted.

"And you've stuck me with the Scabby Queen more than enough times today," Tonks replied. She opened her case and pulled out a floral print sundress. "We've kept that nice taxi driver waiting long enough. Hestia and I can change in the wash room, if you two boys are too shy to change in front of us."

Remus suggested that Shack and he just step out into the hall while the two witches changed, but was chided for his lack of constant vigilance.

Once Tonks and Hestia were in the washroom, Lupin grabbed Kingsley's elbow and asked, "Are you comfortable with all this?"

A sparkle appeared in the Senior Auror's eye as he shrugged.

"We have to kill time somewhere," he reasoned. "Would you rather spend the next couple of hours in this room?"

"We could find somewhere else to spend our time," Remus countered. "Somewhere we won't be expected to strip down starkers."

"That somewhere wouldn't be as culturally interesting, though."

"Really, Kingsley?" Remus asked. "You're going to pass this off as a cultural experience?"

The well-built wizard shrugged once more. "I've heard about this sort of beach before, but…to actually see it? Yes, Remus, I'm treating it like a field exercise…just think of it as advanced studies on muggle cultural practices."

"I'm sure your wife would feel the same way," Remus snarked.

"Get hold of yourself, man, and stop channeling Molly Weasley!" Shack said forcefully.

"Now that's a low blow," Remus muttered.

"If the prudish shoe fits," Kingsley countered. "Look, we have two fit women practically begging us to accompany them to a clothing-optional beach. Are you worried that you'll appear inadequate before their eyes?"

Remus let out a deep breath and muttered, "Just the opposite, actually."

Tonks and Hestia emerged from the washroom before Shack could ask Lupin to elaborate.

oo00OO00oo

The Magical District
Montreal

A few minutes after their near-disastrous trip to the local bank, Harry and Hermione found themselves sharing coffee and donut holes with a magical Mountie inside a thatch-roofed Tim Hortons.

"I really shouldn't have let you pay," the Officer Rivers noted.

"It's the least we could do, after your help back there," Hermione replied.

"All part of the job," the Mountie noted.

Noticing a slight grimace when Harry took a sip from his cup, the officer asked, "The double-double too sweet for your liking?"

"No, it's just…an acquired taste, I guess."

"I'm not a tea drinker, but I'm told that there are at least a few places in the city where it's done well."

"But not here?"

"No…and to be honest, the coffee isn't all that great here either."

"Then why…?"

"Wanted to introduce you to a cultural tradition…Canadian culture, to be more specific," Officer Rivers replied. "And to be fair, the timbits are addicting."

Hermione nodded in agreement as the witch popped another donut hole into her mouth.

"How did a Muggle coffee shop find its way to a magical shopping district?"

"Some witch or wizard bought the franchise rights, I imagine," the Mountie replied with a grin.

Harry had more important things on his mind than chain franchises, and asked, "So, is what happened to us this morning a common occurrence, or just more of my Potter luck?"

The Mountie chuckled. "It's true that Gringotts goblins test the security measures of Gorechunks every once in a while. I imagine the opposite is also true."

"And the penalty for attempted theft is literally that Medieval?" asked Hermione.

The officer shrugged. "It's rarely enforced, and with magical options to restore a limb..."

"Still seems harsh."

"Any harsher than being locked in a Gringotts vault for a decade without food or water?" Harry asked.

"Fair point," Hermione replied.

"Your British accents and holsters were red flags," the officer noted. "And mentioning Ottawa didn't help…that branch was also staffed by the local goblin clan."

"Sorry, I was just…annoyed."

"So why did the supervisor act so differently?" Hermione asked.

"Might be a management thing…the higher-ups thinking more strategically about the long term?"

Harry sighed.

"Let me guess…it'd be a big deal if I moved all of my Gringotts assets to Gorechunks, right?"

The female officer nodded. "Not that I know how much money would be involved, but if it was important enough to offer you that dagger to keep your business?"

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," Harry noted.

"Not to change the topic," Hermione interjected, "But…you weren't at the bank by coincidence, were you?"

The Mountie shook her head.

"After your unintended visit to Baffin Island we were asked to keep an eye out for you two. Just in case…"

"In case something like what happened at the bank happened?" Harry asked.

"Yes," the officer replied.

"Why not introduce yourself from the start?" Harry asked.

"We thought it better to give you two some space, after you know…your unfortunate interaction with that border agent."

"Heard about that, did you?" asked Hermione.

Harry tried to quickly change the subject.

"Are you with us during our entire visit to North America, or just the public bits?"

The Mountie chuckled. "Do you have any reason to believe that you'll be at risk on your estate?"

Harry shook his head.

"Then my task ends when your next portkey trip begins," she stated.

Harry turned to Hermione and asked, "Soon, right?"

His girlfriend took a sip from her cup, glanced at the order counter, and nodded in agreement.

"I suppose we can take our coffees to go, just like everyone else."

oo00OO00oo

NAC Operations Center
Canadian High Commission
MacDonald House, London

Hector Gutierrez would have normally insisted that Albus Dumbledore make an appointment, rather than appear at their security checkpoint unannounced and insist on a face-to-face meeting. But he was just having too damn much fun yanking the headmaster's chain, and was eager to exploit any new opportunities to do so.

"Come in, come in, Señor Dumbledore," Hector said, intentionally omitting any of his titles. Guiding the much older wizard into his office, he offered him a seat, and added, "I'm eager to learn of this urgent matter that apparently wasn't so urgent when we met earlier today."

Albus nodded as he sat down on a chair that was almost as uncomfortable as the ones that he forced upon visitors to his own office.

"I just learned that two of my charges have been detained at one of your border patrol stations," he explained. "I wish to understand how they got there, why they are being detained, and how I might shepherd them home."

"Two of your charges?" Hector asked. "I will need you to be a little more specific."

"Their names are Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."

"And these two people are your charges…how, exactly?"

"I am their legal guardian."

"Really? They are both wards of the state?"

Albus sighed. "To be precise, I am Miss Granger's magical guardian, and both magical and legal guardian of Mr. Potter."

"Is that so?" Hector asked. "And why exactly do you believe that they are in our custody?"

Reluctantly deciding that his word alone would not be taken as proof, the headmaster reached into his robe pocket and pulled out Harry's booklist.

"Miss Granger's letter was similarly addressed," Albus noted.

Hector grabbed the envelope and gave it a cursory look.

"If I sent a letter to my wife addressed to Buckingham Palace, would that serve as proof that she was having tea with your Queen?" he asked.

"The letters were addressed by Hogwarts herself, this very afternoon," the headmaster insisted. "They are unfailingly accurate."

"You're telling me that a stone castle has delegated authority to address your school correspondence?"

"Come now…surely this type of ancient magic is not unknown in the New World?"

Hector shook his head in disbelief.

"Sounds more like crazy magic than ancient," he opined. "But you are welcome to wait outside while I make a few calls to see if your concerns are valid."

Seeing no better alternative, and certainly not eager to relieve Molly Weasley of her line duties at Gringotts, Dumbledore reluctantly accepted the offer.

While Harry Potter had recently occupied a portion of Hector's to-do list, he wasn't the only bullet point on the spy's list of action items. So he hadn't actually been tracking the boy's whereabouts, and really did need to make a call to confirm that Harry and his girlfriend had briefly been unintentional guests at Ice Station Auyuittuq.

It would have been a simple matter to convey the news to Dumbledore. By why make it any easier for the old man to meddle?

Deciding to let that old man cool his heels, Hector shifted his focus to his stack of unread memos.

oo00OO00oo

Hidden Island, St. Lawrence River

Despite Hermione's fears, the mini-hockey stick portkey delivered them safely and directly to the unplottable location that had been part of the Potter family's estate for hundreds of years.

The castle held a commanding vantage point on a sixty-five acre island that was on the Canadian side of the international border that followed the river's mid-channel. It had four turrets, twelve bedrooms, and an active moat (which really was overkill, given its unplottable location). It also had two house elves who were in vastly different emotional states.

Pride and purpose gilded the older house elf's words as he bowed low and said, "Welcome to Hidden Island, Lord Potter, Miss Hermione."

"Thank you Welly," said Harry. "It's great to finally be here."

Fear and loathing tainted the younger house elf's words as she glomped on to Hermione's leg and said, "Please don't give me clothes, Miss…I be promising to do better!"

Harry and Hermione shared a look of concern before she pried the elf's hands apart and squatted down to talk with the house elf face-to-face.

"Why would you think that we would be upset with you, Pebbles?"

"Because my preparing for the practice baby-making in the master of the corkie place be so bad that Master and Miss left without soiling the sheets!"

"Oh, Pebbles, that wasn't your fault!" Hermione declared, as she gave the excitable young elf a hug. "That master bedroom looked lovely, and we were about use it…but then we were interrupted when some very silly people caused us to leave the Cortex unintentionally."

"Really?"

"Absolutely," Hermione insisted. "You are doing an excellent job as a Potter elf…a real credit to your mother's training."

"Miss is too kind!" the young elf wailed, as she glomped even harder onto the teenaged witch.

Harry couldn't decide whether he should be annoyed at being called a silly person, or amused by the fact that Hermione was now attached to a house elf that was almost as excitable as Dobby.

The other house elf cleared his throat, and asked, "Would Lord Potter and Miss Hermione like a tour of his castle and grounds?"

Pebbles let out a shriek. "I not be preparing the castle's master bedroom yet!"

Welly pursed his lips when the younger elf popped away in a rush.

"Perhaps it would be better if you tour the grounds first?" he asked.

Harry smiled and nodded in agreement.

"We just had a rather stressful encounter in Montreal," the teenager noted. "A relaxing walk along the shoreline sounds like an excellent idea."

The elder elf bowed, and promised to send word back that the two teens had safely arrived at Hidden Island.

oo00OO00oo

NAC Operations Center, London

Albus Dumbledore considered himself a patient man who could wait for a desired outcome. What he didn't care for was having someone else be in control of where he did that waiting, and for how long. And when that uncontrolled situation came on top of the day that the headmaster had been having? Well… to say that the wizard was in a foul mood as he sat outside of Hector Gutierrez's office was an understatement.

That foul mood turned fouler when the headmaster borrowed the morning newspaper from Hector's receptionist, and spotted the photograph in the bottom corner of the front page.

Ignoring that receptionist's protests, the headmaster barged into Hector's office and slammed the morning edition of the New York Magical Times onto his desk.

"I am very troubled by your lies, Mr. Gomez," Albus said icily. He pointed towards the animated image of Harry Potter accepting his NAC passport and added, "I thought better of you."

Hector glanced at the newspaper, then slowly raised his coffee cup to his lips and sipped.

"You choose not to deny it?" the headmaster accused.

"That is a very serious accusation, headmaster…what was this alleged lie?"

"You said that…well…it was a lie of omission," Dumbledore shot back. "You knew that Harry Potter was a NAC citizen, and you knew that I did not know. And you knew that I never would have vowed to avoid contact with him for any amount of time, much less a month!"

The spymaster shrugged. "Señor, what I know is that I read the newspaper this morning…should I have known that you did not?"

"Why would you expect me to have a subscription for a newspaper from the New World?"

"Maybe because it actually reports news, rather than whatever dribbles out from the Daily Prophet's ass?" Hector quipped. "But let's set aside the topic of comparative journalism…you claimed a few minutes ago that you were both Mr. Potter's legal and magical guardian. Why would anyone think that someone in that position would be so negligently ignorant of their ward's citizenship status?"

"Mr. Potter was born in Britain to British parents…the idea that he is a citizen of your confederation is preposterous."

"Fine, don't believe the newspaper article," Hector said. "Try sending him a message after you get your precious potions master back and find out for yourself."

"You must allow that vow to be amended, then."

"Is that a request or a demand?"

"It's…do you have children, Mr. Gutierrez?"

"How is that relevant?"

"I am more than just Mr. Potter's guardian…he is like a son to me. Can you imagine being barred by penalty of death from talking with your child, or even contacting him?"

"If you are that close to the boy…when was the last time that you saw him? Or spoke with him, or exchanged letters, even?"

"I….Harry was spending time at his best friend's house this summer, and was guarded night and day."

The NAC spymaster snorted. "Nice non-answer, Dumbledore. Do you even know where your oh-so-precious-to-you ward is at the moment?"

"Erm…in your detention facility, apparently."

"Not anymore," Hector countered.

"These are dangerous times, especially for Mr. Potter," Dumbledore insisted. "How can I protect him if I can't contact or come into contact with him?"

"If you have any credible information about any imminent threats against a North American Confederation citizen who is residing within Magical Britain, I would welcome the opportunity to review that information and take what actions are necessary."

"But…

"No more buts. We're not changing the vow," Hector declared, as pushed the newspaper back across the desk. "Feel free to keep that, by the way."

The headmaster shook his head and asked, "How will he know what books to purchase for the school year?"

"Not my problem…but if you want a bit of advice?"

"Yes?"

"There's still a few more hours left in the day. Plenty of time to try to send another booklist…or to contact the members of your little vigilante group, for that matter."

"Why would I need to contact…?"

Blood drained from the Headmaster's face as he mentally reviewed the wording of his vow.

"You've cast a death sentence upon me!" he whispered.

The spymaster grinned as he gestured towards his office fireplace.

"Fastest way to win your own eleventh-hour reprieve is through that floo connection."

Hector's first thought, as he watched the headmaster rush towards the fireplace, was that he really needed to get hold of Team Felix's pensieve, and share a few delightful memories with his friend Billy Bucktooth.

His second thought was that the content of those memories also needed to be shared with Harry Potter.

The spymaster's best guess was that the teenager was holed up with his girlfriend on his private island in Ontario. That location was beyond his reach…but not, perhaps, beyond the reach of the young lord's liegeman.

Hector waited until a few seconds after Dumbledore's departure to pick up the telephone and place a call over its secured line…more out of a healthy dose of paranoia, than any real concern that the headmaster (or anyone else) might overhear.

oo00OO00oo

La Jaonnet Bay, Guernsey

After completing the ten minute hike, descending the 218 steps, and climbing down a twenty foot long ladder, the four witches and wizards finally were able to slip off their socks and shoes and dig their toes into warm sand. Two dozen or so muggles watched with curiosity as they walked past, and selected a spot on the far side of the beach.

"Why do you think they were staring?" Hestia quietly asked, as they stretched out a blanket and weighed down the corners with their shoes.

"Mostly locals, I bet," Tonks replied. "Checking out the new skin in town."

Remus, Kingsley and Hestia found spots to sit on the blanket while Tonks reached for the hem of her sundress. She quickly proved that it had been the only thing covering her body. And since she was a metamorph, that body was damn-near flawless.

Hestia smiled as Tonks did a single pirouette.

"Nice ta-ta's, Tonks."

The naked witch chuckled as she sat down on the blanket cross-legged, facing the other three. "Now Hestia, don't you remember? Titties are changing to nénés doon here."

"Oh, right. My bad," the other witch laughed. "So where along the way did you cast a depilatory charm?"

"Who says that I did?"

"We checked each other's pants for magic this morning, remember?"

"Oh, yeah… just before Minnie-baby informed us that her pussy tattoo wasn't magical."

Kingsley cleared his throat.

"Perhaps this is a conversation better saved for the boudoir?" he asked.

"Bollocks to that," Tonks declared. "We're all adults here, and Mad-eye says that we're to act like swinging couples on holiday."

"I only heard that we were very close friends," Remus meekly protested.

"You're avoiding the question, Tonks," said Hestia.

"Hey, want to see a magic trick?" the Junior Auror asked (continuing to ignore the question). She sat up and flashed an emergent forest of blond pubes. "What do you think, Hestia…will we match?"

"As long as you don't grow a pig nose down there."

"Ha! Good one!"

"Junior Auror Nymphadora Tonks!" Kingsley softly scolded, enunciating each syllable in his rich baritone.

"Oh, oh….somebody is in trouble," Hestia sing-songed.

Shack shook his head. "We are outside of our jurisdiction…are you intentionally trying to create an international incident?"

"Can you imagine being the French Obliviator who needed to write up that incident report?" Hestia quipped.

"You all worry too much," Tonks protested, as she sat back down. "Even if one of those muggles saw it, they wouldn't dare admit to it."

"Because that would be admitting that they'd been peeping?" Hestia asked.

"Exactly," Tonks agreed, as she rolled over onto her stomach.

The metamorph squinted for a second, then announced. "But if it's such a big deal…I'm back to bare."

"I'll take your word for it," Kingsly replied.

"So the 'Bald as Kingsley' look…is that a fashion statement?" asked Hestia.

"Just fitting in with the locals," Tonks said with a smile, gesturing towards the other side of the beach.

"You'd need to add four or five stone to do that," Hestia snarked.

"My, aren't we catty today?" Tonks asked. "Just for that, you go next."

Hestia shook her head as she reached for the hem of her own sundress.

"Fair warning…I'm apparently out of fashion down there, and that won't change without magic."

Tonks' suggestion that a depilatory charm wouldn't be out of the ordinary magic on a nude beach was overruled by Shacklebolt.

Hestia chose to strip down from a sitting position. Tossing her dress and knickers into her bag, the now-naked witch reclined onto her elbows and smiled at Kingsley (who was trying hard to maintain his cool).

"Well, well, Miss Jones…don't you look comfortable?" he asked.

Hestia shrugged her shoulders.

"My family follows the Old Ways," she explained. "Skyclad's almost second nature."

"Danced around a few fires?" Remus asked.

"More than a few."

Tonks waggled her eyebrows and asked, "Any hardcore Beltanes?"

Hestia nodded.

"When I was fifteen, my parents allowed me to watch the horned warrior deflower my older sister."

"Sweet Merlin!" Tonks hissed with amazement. "So did you get a turn playing the Goddess?"

"Sadly not…mum insisted that one Beltane child in the family was blessings enough."

After they all shared a laugh Hestia reached out and squeezed Kingsley thigh.

"But enough about me, right?" she asked.

Knowing full well what the naked witch was really suggesting, the Senior Auror shrugged, and let out a deep breath.

"Apologies in advance, ladies," he said, as he pulled off his shirt, then did the same kind of bum scooting that Hestia did in order to strip off his trousers and shorts without standing. But unlike Hestia, the now-naked wizard immediately turned over onto his stomach, in a futile attempt to conceal a fairly impressive stiffie.

Tonks was smart enough to not say something that might impinge on her professional relationship with the Senior Auror. It wasn't that much of a struggle, since her interests lay elsewhere.

"So it's down to you, Remus," the metamorph said brightly. "Time to release the balls."

"That's rather crude, isn't it?" Hestia said with a giggle.

"What?" asked Tonks. "It's a simile…you know, time to get the show going, time to release the game balls and start the quidditch match…"

"That's not a simile," countered Remus. "It's an idiom."

"What's a simile, then?"

"A simile is figure of speech that makes a comparison," Hestia interjected. "Hung like a hippogriff, for example."

"Ok, fine…so Remus, it's time to confirm that you're hung like a hippogriff."

"No."

"But it's a nude beach!"

"No, the driver said that it was clothing optional," Remus countered. "That means starkers is an option, rather than a requirement."

"Are we making you uncomfortable, Remus?" Hestia asked.

"No, no…you three are fine. I just don't want to draw attention."

"What do you mean?" asked Tonks. "You being the only clothed person on the beach right now is what's drawing attention to us."

"I'm not the only one wearing clothes."

Kingsley laughed. "Only if you count the two topless women wearing string thongs."

Tonks snorted. "That's a rather detailed observation, isn't it Shack?"

"Just looking for concealed weapons…constant vigilance, and all that."

Hestia laughed as she turned on to her side, so that she could face Remus.

"If you're worried about your scars, don't," she suggested, as she nonchalantly offered him a full-frontal view. "The ones on display the other night made you look more attractive, not less."

"I agree," said Tonks.

"It's not the scars," said Remus.

"Well it can't be any insecurities over size," Hestia stated.

"I'll second that sizing up," Tonks added.

"What makes you two think that…?"

"Just give it a rest, Remus, and show off your super-sized simile," Kingsley huffed.

The sandy-haired wizard shook his head in defeat. He stood, slipped off his shirt, and pushed his trousers and boxer shorts down to his ankles.

Tonks and Hestia struggled not to gasp, or otherwise voice their approval. But there was no hiding other signs of admiration for the size of Remus' massive (yet still flaccid) penis. Especially if you were a werewolf, with a heightened sense of smell.

"Happy?" Remus asked.

Shacklebolt lifted his head up enough to turn towards the other wizard.

"You know, if you really wanted to avoid attention you should have done that sitting down."

"Sod off, Kingsley," Remus replied, kicking his pants towards the Auror's head.

oo00OO00oo

Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts

Albus's first few steps out of his office fireplace brought him directly in front of his enlarged wall map. He couldn't keep from staring at the remaining dots, and update his mental inventory of which Order member he would dispatch where. But then he remembered that his unbreakable vow also included Order members. And that his unbreakable vow would be broken if any member of the Order of the Phoenix came into contact with Harry Potter after eleven o'clock that evening, and encouraged him to return home.

Cursing the loss of a few precious minutes of time, the headmaster drew his wand and immediately began to cast one messenger patronus after another.

With that critical task completed, the headmaster called for Canipsy and ordered the head elf to bring him both a headache potion and new letters addressed to Harry and Hermione. It only took a half lemon drop wait for the elf to return with a potion bottle and two letters marked "Unreachable Location."

Canipsy reminded the headmaster that a full parliament of owls was still on standby to deliver book lists to the rest of the student population. Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose, chugged down the headache potion, and ordered the owls sent off. He also instructed the head elf to print out new letters for Harry and Hermione every five minutes, until their address changed to a deliverable location.

oo00OO00oo

Hidden Island

While there were sandy areas along most of the hidden island's perimeter, the widest and deepest section of beach was located at its most easterly point, where the waters that flowed along the island's northern and southern flanks merged and continued downriver towards Montreal. It was easy to tell that this was the designated area for beach activities on the island. There was a stone-columned gazebo (kitted out with patio furniture, an outdoor kitchen, and wet bar), beach umbrellas and chaise lounges, a stone fire pit surrounded by brightly-colored Adirondack chairs, and a big container of sand toys.

Harry's gaze was immediately drawn to the toy box. The search for his father's catapult was interrupted when he spotted Hermione stripping down out of the corner of his eye.

"Beach break?" he asked hopefully.

Hermione nodded as she slipped off her blouse and folded it.

"Unless you'd rather tour the castle?" she asked.

Harry shook his head vigorously as his girlfriend pulled a button from her skirt.

"This is good!" he declared, as he began to unbutton his own clothing. "So if this really is a hidden island, then we're hidden here on the beach, right?"

Hermione chuckled as she magically expanded her button wardrobe. "Don't get your hopes up mister…we don't know where the warding ends. For all we know, it's just the castle that's magically hidden from view."

"But then this gazebo and all the furniture would be visible…and you'd expect boats tied up and people raiding that wet bar, right?"

"I suppose," said Hermione, as she picked out a candy-red bikini and set it out on the chaise. She then took a second look at their surroundings…where they stood, they could see the main Canadian shoreline and four small nearby islands. All were seemingly uninhabited. There was some boat traffic on the river, but nothing all that close.

Nodding to herself, Hermione slipped off her bra.

"Might explain the lack of a changing cabana," she added, as she picked up the red bikini top.

There was a pause in the conversation as Harry appreciated the view, and Hermione appreciated being appreciated.

"So…you going to join me?" she finally teased.

"Erm…right," said Harry, as he expanded his own button wardrobe.

"Wear the blue board shorts?" Hermione asked.

Harry followed her instructions, and tried not to be so obviously excited when his girlfriend nonchalantly replaced her thong knickers with a more conservative bikini bottom.

Once they changed and stashed their street clothes and button wardrobes, the two teenagers cuddled on an incredibly comfortable double-wide chaise lounge.

"So, board shorts and bikini tops?" asked Harry.

Hermione nodded. "I've heard that the beaches on this side of the Atlantic are more like Britain's than France's. But even if they weren't…I really wanted a chance to wear this swim costume. Hope you don't mind."

"Absolutely not…you look amazing," Harry offered with a smile. "Whomever picked it out for you had very good taste."

Hermione giggled. "Yes, I think he's very tasty…are you disappointed that I'm not wearing the naughtier 'more than a good friend' option?"

Harry shorted. "Yes, I'm sure. What I'm seeing right now is super sexy. And if you don't trust my words, trust the tent."

Hermione glanced at the bulge in her boyfriend's swim costume and laughed. "Not nearly as obvious as when you are wearing your man thong."

"A lot more comfortable, though," Harry replied.

Hermione squeezed Harry's arm and asked, "So do you think you'd want to spend some time here over the next few weeks?"

"As long as you're here too, Sweetheart."

Hermione popped her head up and kissed his cheek.

"Smooth line, Mister."

"Not wrong, though," Harry countered. "It'd be great to have your parents here as well."

"Even if that meant that we'd have to sneak around when we…"

"When we what?"

"You know."

"I'd rather hear you say it."

"Begging isn't sexy, Harry."

"Fine, my answer is still yes, though," said Harry. "The Cortex is really great, but it doesn't have a beach. And your parents might be more comfortable wearing board shorts and bikinis."

"I'm sure that Mom went topless today on the Delacour's beach…maybe even bottomless," said Hermione. "We've had family vacations on French beaches before."

"Did any of those vacations include a boyfriend?"

"Good point," said Hermione. "I like the idea of spending time with my parents too." Slipping her hand inside the front of Harry's shorts, she added, "Even if that means that I can't do this as often as I want to."

Harry groaned as his girlfriend grabbed hold, and reached out to reciprocate.

"So how often is often?" he teased.

Hermione giggled as she pulled her hand free and grabbed Harry's wrist.

"What's up?" Harry asked. "Aren't we far enough away from Mr. Pervy Parker for me to show you a thing or three?"

His girlfriend shook her head.

"Yes we are, but no, you aren't."

"Awwww…why not?"

Hermione gave her boyfriend a friendly tap on the outside of his shorts.

"Because there is a very sad house elf back at the castle," she explained. "A house elf who was traumatized when we portkeyed out of the Cork Fort's master bedroom without mussing the sheets."

"Ah," said Harry. He thought for a moment, pulled her closer to his chest, then dramatically lamented, "If only there was some way that we could make it up to her!"

Hermione snorted, as she rolled away from Harry's embrace and stood.

"Last one to find this island's master bedroom is the first to go down on the other?" she suggested.

A breath caught in Harry's throat, before it was expelled with a rush of adrenalin. He rolled off the other side of the lounge, sprung to his feet, and dashed off towards the castle.

Hermione chuckled at her boyfriend's energy and enthusiasm. She waited until he was just out of sight and then called out, "Pebbles?"

The diminutive house elf appeared instantly.

"Yes, Miss Hermione, Miss?"

"Is the castle's master bedroom prepared for some practicing?"

"Oh yes, Miss Hermione!" Pebbles excitedly declared, bouncing back and forth on her bare feet.

"That's excellent news, because Lord Potter wants to ravish me."

"Hooray!"

Hermione squatted down to Pebble's eye-level and asked, "Would you please pop me there, so that I can prepare to be ravished?"

The wide-eyed elf nodded, and reached out to touch the teenager's knee. They disappeared with neither a flash nor a bang, and reappeared in the master bedroom almost instantly (and well before Harry figured out which of the castle's bedrooms was the master).

oo00OO00oo

La Jaonnet Bay, Guernsey

Tonks rolled her eyes as a pair of nude middle-aged women slowly walked past their beach blanket for the third time in fifteen minutes.

"Can those cows be any more obvious?" she whispered, as her wand sprung out from her magically-concealed wrist holder. A discrete muggle-repelling charm quickly sent the two voyeurs back to the far side of the beach.

Now lying on his back, Remus asked, "Was that really necessary?"

Tonks glanced down at his crotch and nodded.

"Just protecting your virtue," she quipped, as she laid down at an angle, and rested the back of her head against the werewolf's belly.

"I can do that without your help, you know."

"We would have never been left alone," Tonks explained. "Or at least your todger wouldn't."

"But did you really need magic to protect his virtue?" Kingsley asked.

"Do you want to walk back to the hotel?" Tonks countered. "Because I'm quite certain that without magic there's no hope of gaining enough privacy on this beach to apparate back unnoticed."

Hestia said, "But if that was a muggle-repelling charm…they can still see us from a distance."

"Good point," said Tonks. She sat up and lightly slapped Remus' thigh.

"Stand up and face the other side of the beach for a few moments."

"Why?"

"So those looky-lucy's will focus all of their attention on your John Thomas Senior, rather than on me casting a notice-me-not charm."

Remus reflexively covered his bits.

"Not on that, you idiot," Tonks teased. "The areal effect version."

"Ah."

"Fair warning, you two," Tonks added. "Remus and I are due for a private chat, so I'm going to follow up that spell with a muffliato."

"Why don't you two just head back to the hotel room and talk there?" Kingsley asked. "Hestia and I will give you a half-hour head start."

"If that's long enough for the pillow talk," Hestia teased.

"Probably won't be… can you send a warning in advance?"

Shacklebolt shook his head. "No messenger spells, remember?"

"Damn, you're right," Tonks lamented. "Oh, well…I suppose that very very good friends won't mind if they pop in on Remus and me doing something appropriately inappropriate."

The metamorph pulled Remus up to his feet, then cast a notice-me-not charm behind his back. A transient hemispherical shimmer confirmed that they were within the bubble of a successfully cast spell.

"Take your time, you two," Tonks instructed, mashing her breasts against Remus' back.

"Do I have any say in this?" he asked.

The metamorph replied by pulling him closer and side-apparating him away without warning.

"I guess he didn't," Hestia said with a laugh.

Kingsley lifted his head up to confirm that Tonks' and Remus' hasty departure hadn't been noticed.

The blinding light of a phoenix patronus, manifest inside the notice-me-not dome, rendered that reconnaissance useless.

"Members of the Order, this is not a drill!" the phoenix proclaimed, using Dumbledore's voice. "Do not, under any circumstances, make contact or attempt to contact Harry Potter. Return to Britain immediately. I repeat, avoid Harry Potter at all costs and abandon your search. Lives are at stake. Again, this is not a drill."

Shack's and Hestia's first reactions were to draw their wands, thinking it inconceivable that the notice-me-not could have withstood that kind of sound and light show. But glances down the beach confirmed that the naked muggles hadn't noticed the sound and light.

"Brava, Tonks," Shacklebolt declared. "I can't believe that her spell held."

"Well I can't believe the message," said Hestia, cautiously pushing her wand back into her magically-concealed holster. "Why would Dumbledore change his mind like that?"

Shack shrugged. "He would tell you that ours is not to reason why."

"What's your take?"

Kingsley shrugged. "While I really should get back to my real job at 10 Downing Street…the weekend is here, the sun is shining, and I don't feel all that compelled to rush back to England. Do you?"

"Not really."

"And I don't think that I spotted Harry Potter as we walked down the beach."

Hestia laughed. "Yeah, like all your attention was focused on male foreheads."

"Regardless…what do you want to do?"

The naked witch shrugged. "It's the same for me. I don't feel any need to follow Dumbledore's instructions, and I'm not trying to make contact with Harry Potter…or Harry Potter's pubes. Wouldn't mind a few more days on holiday, though."

"So that means…?"

"For now, I think that means that we stick to the plan, and give Tonks and Remus enough time to resolve their sexual tension."

Kingsley laughed.

"A weekend is not nearly enough time for that."

oo00OO00oo

Cortex Gaztelua (aka The Cork Fort)

Bill and Fleur's day had become a lot more eventful when Dobby had popped in on their tryst earlier that afternoon and announced that Harry and Hermione had accidentally triggered a portkey, and were detained in a null-magic cell in the Canadian Far North. Hearing that Hermione hadn't dressed for travel, and had given a border agent an eyeful, were equal parts alarming and amusing.

Dobby had eased Bill and Fleur's concerns as they struggled to untangle themselves and retrieve their clothes. Harry and Hermione were now dressed, sheltered, and in good health. And while Dobby had assured the teenagers that he was more than capable of bringing them back to Europe, they had insisted that he not try. The house elf then produced a hastily-written note that Hermione had written in the detention cell that confirmed this request. Harry and she wanted to try to sort things out on their own, but promised to call for help if that help was needed.

And those were just the first messages that Bill and Fleur had received over the next few hours.

Chokebar sent Bill an owl post with information from Gringotts' military intelligence division. His liege lord had reportedly battled their enemy in Montreal, and won a glorious spoils-claiming victory. In his honor, the first round of drinks in every Gringotts bar and barracks that night would be on the house. That was it…nothing about Harry's health, or details about how or why this battle had taken place, or even why he had been in Montreal. Bill's head had been in the Cork Fort's floo connection, trying to get some answers from the bank, when Welly popped in from Hidden Island and announced that Harry and Hermione had safely arrived there.

Shortly after that, Fleur's mother dispatched a house elf to the Cork Fort asking whether the four planned on dining at Chateau Delacour that evening. A second house elf delivered letters from Hermione's parents and Gabrielle, essentially asking the same thing.

And then the Magical Prime Minister of France (also known as Fleur's dad) dispatched a third house-elf to the Cork Fort with a telephone transcription (written in both French and English). The NAC's London spymaster had contacted his French counterpart, and relayed the terms and conditions of Dumbledore's unbreakable vow. He had also reported that the headmaster was using booklists to track student locations.

Bill and Fleur were still wrapping their heads around the implications of this message when they were interrupted by the same Phoenix patronus message that had materialized on the best-hidden beach in Guernsey. This corporeal message had brought clarity to Hector's message, as well as a whole lot of worry to Bill and Fleur.

"We have to get Harry and Hermione back here to talk about this," the liegeman told his fiancée.

"But are zhey not safer if they remain on his private island?"

"They might be, but how would we get there? Even if they sent back their portkey by elf…we aren't authorized to use it."

"But this place, you can plot it, and zee Headmaster can discover their location, just by addressing another letter while zhey are here," (her emotional state causing her accent to slip).

"He still couldn't touch them," Bill said confidently. "Secure floo connection, mail redirection wards, phoenix travel bans, unauthorized inbound and outbound portkey barriers, intent-based wards...and if he tries to apparate he'll bounce so hard that he'll splash down in the sea."

"But still…zhere is nothing you can do to zee ward scheme to hide zhis location?"

"I can't make this place unplottable," said Bill. "I mean, I could…but it would take a month and a small army of warders."

"Perhaps zhere is another way, then…eef Harry is here when Hogwarts addresses a letter, what would zee address be?"

Bill thought for a few moments, the said, "They use the street address, unless it's a well-known magical location that the owls would have no problem finding."

"And zhis place?"

Bill nodded his head. "The letter would most likely be addressed Cortex Gaztelua, France. And unfortunately, with all of its history, and its role in supplying world-class corks to potioneers…wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore knows this place, and where it is at least roughly located."

"What eef we change zee magical name of this place, zhen?"

"That might be possible, but only if we were able to legally change its names in as many different ways as possible. We're talking floo address and property tax records at the French ministry, and legal documents and ownership records at Gringotts. We could never get all that done in time."

"Why do you say zhat?"

"Because it's late Friday afternoon…in August. Goblins might not go on vacation, but forget getting anything done at the Ministry."

Fleur giggled. "Eef only we knew someone in zee magical government who could help us?"

Bill looked at his fiancée for a moment, then slapped his forehead with the base of his palm.

"I am such an idiot," he muttered.

The couple were assessing the pros and cons of new place names when they received yet another message…this time, delivered by a corporeal baboon.

"Mad-Eye suggests meeting in Guernsey tonight to shite on Fawkes. Reply by patronus."

Fleur chuckled. "So your brothers…at least one is now in France?"

"Magical France, at least. And who knows, if Mad-Eye was dictating the message?"

A divide and conquer approach was quickly decided upon. Bill sent out a corporeal meeting invitation that almost screamed "Constant Vigilance!" Fleur grabbed some floo powder and headed back to her family's estate, in search of some assistance from a certain high-placed government official.

oo00OO00oo

Hidden Island

While Harry Potter was still a novice when it came to lovemaking, one thing that he knew for certain was that it was bad form for the bloke to immediately fall asleep after sex. So he cuddled, and snuggled, and held Hermione in his arms as she fell deeper into a satiated snooze.

It wasn't that hard to stay awake, as Harry was still on a bit of a hair trigger after their trip to the bank. It was actually rather enjoyable, since it gave him the chance to hear Hermione's breathing pattern slip into a delightfully rhythmic purr. It was high-value teasing material, if he knew the right recording spell, or had access to a muggle recording device.

Harry's musing about whether muggle electronics would work within his castle was interrupted by the sounds of a struggle on the other side of the bedroom door. His fight-or-flight instincts immediately kicked in, and the flick of a wrist released his wand into his grip. Harry slipped quietly out of Hermione's hug, got out of bed, and crept towards the door. His adrenalin levels stabilized after he pressed his ear to that door, and heard very distinctive voices.

When sticking his head out and trying to "shush" failed to work, Harry summoned a loose bedlinen, wrapped it around his waist, and then stepped out into the hallway.

"Quiet it you two…Hermione's resting," he hissed, closing the door behind him.

Dobby and Pebbles immediately pulled free of each other and bowed low before Harry.

"We be most sorry, Lord Potter," they apologized.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Dobby be delivering a most urgent message from the Great Lord Harry Potter's liegey man's flower," Dobby stated. "Pebbles be keeping me from delivering it."

"Miss Hermione Miss asked for my help, because she's wanting to be ravished," Pebbles explained.

"Is that so?" Harry asked with amusement.

Pebbles nodded. "I just be making sure that Lord Potter had a proper amount of time to deliver a proper ravishment."

Harry chuckled. "Well, I certainly appreciate your help, Pebbles."

"Dobby be thinking that the ravishment be over," said Dobby.

The female elf walked up to Harry, and yanked off the sheet that was wrapped around his waist.

"Hey!"

Pebbles ignored her master's outburst as she inspected his uncovered genitals from uncomfortably close range.

"Pebbles be agreeing. Dobby be allowed to deliver his message now."

Harry was too shocked at the invasion of his personal space to react as Pebbles backed away and Dobby offered Fleur's letter. The two house elves popped away before he could say anything.

Shaking his head in disbelief, the teenaged wizard opened the letter and was skimming its contents when a woman's voice called out from behind.

"You have very interesting house elves, Milord."

Startled, Harry spun on his heels and drew his wand.

There was nobody behind him. Or, at least, no living person. There was, however, a full-length magically-animated portrait of a beautiful woman whose groping left hand was hidden inside her partially unbuttoned blouse.

"Halte au feu, milord!" she exclaimed, pulling her fingers free and extending both hands into the oil-painted sky.

The portrait's smile as she stared down at Harry's mid-section prompted him to realize that she was not a threat, and that he was bare-arsed naked. He used Fleur's letter to cover his bits as his wand slipped back into its holster.

"Erm…sorry, I didn't mean to flash you," said the blushing teen, as he squatted down to retrieve the bed sheet.

The portrait's smile grew as she lowered her hands and casually began to button up her blouse. "No need to hide anything when you are on a hidden island, n'est-ce pas?

Harry frowned as he re-wrapped the sheet around his waist.

"Then why are you covering up?" he asked.

"Force de l'habitude…the rules were different for witches in my day," the portrait simply replied. A sly smile formed on her lips as she cupped her covered breasts and winked.

"But if it would please you…there is a portrait frame within milord's private study that allows me certain…freedoms."

Harry considered the very attractive woman's obvious offer for a few moments, then tried to shake cobwebs from his head.

"Wouldn't that be just a little weird?" he asked, "given that you're probably my great-grandmother, or something?"

The portrait giggled. "I was informed that you are Harry, son of James…is that correct, milord?"

The witch's eyes sparkled when Harry nodded.

"Then I am your great-great aunt Sylvie," she stated, doing a little curtsey. "Married to Reginald, your great-great grandfather's younger brother."

"So…we are related, but not by blood?"

"Exactement!" the portrait replied. "But here I am, keeping you from both your very important missive, and also, apparently, from your very ravished lady."

Harry nodded as he glanced towards the bedroom door.

"You were so very eager to see her…and so very aroused." Sylvie stated with relish. "She must be very beautiful…and must have apparated, or I would have seen her as well."

"Travelled by house elf, actually," Harry replied, realizing that he'd been so single-minded that he'd hadn't spotted the portrait when he had first entered the bedroom. "And yes, she is very beautiful…so if you would please excuse me?"

The portrait nodded and once again curtsied. "I'll see you later, milord."

"Hopefully wearing more than I am now," Harry muttered, as he quietly re-entered the master bedroom.

Hermione was awake and sitting up.

"Oh…sorry if we woke you," he said.

"Who were you talking with?" Hermione asked, with a tone of voice that revealed more curiosity that confrontation.

"Portrait of my great-great aunt, apparently."

Hermione arched an eyebrow and skeptically asked, "A rather casual conversation, I gather?"

Harry glanced down at his knotted bed linen and shrugged.

"Didn't take the time to dress properly when I heard fighting out in the hall."

"Fighting?"

"Yeah, Pebbles was fending off Dobby's attempt to deliver this letter," Harry replied, holding up the piece of correspondence.

"Why on Earth was she doing that?"

"She insisted that Dobby wait until I had enough time to deliver a proper ravishment," Harry replied, using an over-the-top French accent to emphasize that key word.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, I tried to quiet them down, because you were sleeping, and recovering from, you know...your ravishment."

A pinkish glow grew on Hermione's cheeks. "Pebbles has a vivid vocabulary, doesn't she?"

Harry's eyes lit up as he walked up to the side of the bed, sat on its edge, and asked, "But was it really her word choice? Or was it yours?"

"Maybe…"

Harry let out a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "Hermione…we talked about the need to communicate, and about boundaries, and consent. If you want to be ravished…"

"So who sent the letter?" Hermione asked, trying to change the subject.

"Fleur," Harry replied. "They've discovered a problem with the Cork Fort's warding, and want us to stay put until it's fixed."

"Ah…did she say how long that fix might take?"

Harry shook his head, "They think that they'll solve the problem in time for dinner, but they're not certain of it."

"Dinner their time, or our time?"

"Theirs, I imagine," said Harry. "Either way, we've got at least a couple of more hours here."

He smiled as he reached out and squeezed Hermione's sheet-covered thigh.

"So were you properly ravished?" Harry teased. "Or is there more work to be done?"

"You make it sound like a chore," Hermione whined.

"And you didn't answer the question."

Hermione chuckled and shook her head. "Well, you did promise to show me a thing or three, and I only counted two."

"Two for me, or for you?"

"Yes."

It was Harry's turn to chuckle.

"Is that a complaint?"

"No, just an observation."

"Observation…or invitation?"

Hermione responded by undoing the knotted sheet around Harry's waist.

"I did tell Pebbles that you wanted to ravish me," she admitted, as she took his flaccid wand in hand. "But it's not like I have bodice-ripping rape fantasies."

Harry smiled as he pulled off the sheet that had been covering Hermione from the waist down. He dragged his fingernails up the inside of her thigh and asked, "There was a tavern wench outfit in that "Frederick's of Salem" catalog…should we have ordered it?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Hermione protested (totally ignoring the "Slave Leia" costume). She gave his todger a squeeze and added, "But if you wanted to be a little more, erm…aggressive? I'm not made of porcelain, you know."

Harry ran his fingers through his hair and asked, "So what is it you want me to do?"

Hermione chewed on her lower lip for a few moment.

"We haven't done 'doing it from behind' yet, have we?"

"No, we haven't," Harry replied. He smiled, and added, "If only we had a few unplanned hours of free time to pound away at that deficiency."

Hermione giggled as she turned away from Harry and pushed herself up to her hands and knees. She wiggled her bare bum at him and asked, "Care to pound away, milord?"

Harry was going to suggest that three times in less than an hour would be a challenge, even for a horny teenaged boy.

But then Hermione buried her face in a pillow, reached back with both hands, and spread herself before him.

And there was suddenly no need for an excuse.

oo00OO00oo

Grange Lodge Hotel
St Peter Port, Guernsey

Tonks and Remus had apparated naked back to the hotel room. Remus immediately pulled free from the metamorph, stripped the duvet from the nearest bed, and covered himself as he ran to the far corner of the room. Tonks didn't bothered to cover up…at least initially. She sat on the bed, back against the headboard and knees pulled up against her chest. That position had allowed her to accidently-on-purpose flash the Marauder a few times, until she'd grown so frustrated that she'd grabbed a pillow and tried to hug the stuffing out of it.

After a bit of whining about the unannounced side-apparition, the two had waded through all of the reasons why they weren't presently going at it like bunnies. Remus started with the age-difference issue, which Tonks countered by noting that they were both adults…on paper at least…and that they would both enjoy (should they survive the war) magically-extended lifetimes. Next came what Tonks labelled "the predictable shite" about not being able to provide for someone because of his so-called condition. She reminded the werewolf that she had a job that almost paid enough to provide for him, and that all she wanted Remus to provide at the moment was a thorough shagging. The opening round of their negotiations ended with a tired song and dance routine about Remus not wanting kids because of his condition. Tonks informed him that she was on the potion, and that pregnancy was therefore off the table.

With the preliminaries settled, Remus launched into an excuse that the metamorph hadn't seen coming.

"Look, Tonks," he began, "it's not that I am rejecting you, or your tempting offers…I just don't have any interest in a sexual relationship."

"Why the hell not?" she asked. "Did you have some horrific experience that turned you off to sex?"

The werewolf shook his head. "No, more like I haven't had any experience."

"You're a virgin?" Tonks asked incredulously. She snorted in disbelief when Remus nodded.

"No fucking way…Morgana's saggy tits, Remus! You attended a boarding school for seven years!"

"Yes, I did."

"Don't tell me that you didn't have the opportunity…even with just the slightest hint about the size of your wand…should have had witches crawling all over you!"

Remus nodded in agreement. "I did have more than a few offers, and thanks to Sirius there were more than a few witches who knew about my size. But that was the problem. They didn't want me…they just wanted to shag the wolf."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"If I hadn't been bitten by Greyback, then I wouldn't be, as you've noted, hung like a hippogriff. It's the wolf that witches want to ride, not me."

Tonks paused for a few moments to think about Remus's line of reasoning. And then she shredded it.

"First off, for all of the negatives that come with lycanthropy…even if what you are saying is true…why look a gift hippogriff in the mouth?"

"Because…"

"Secondly," Tonks interrupted, "you were bitten before your balls dropped. How do you know that you wouldn't have been just as well-hung if you hadn't been bit?"

"I'll agree that it's possible, but highly unlikely… given just how much bigger I am than the average wizard."

"How do you know? Have a few dorm-room measuring contests?"

"No, but we did have gang showers in the dorm."

Tonks let out a deep sigh.

"Thirdly…"

"Is that Queen's English?"

"Sod off, Remus….thirdly, stop being so fucking self-centered. You're not the only one who has had to deal with unwanted advances because of physical features that they can't control."

The Marauder was quick to catch on.

"Your metamorph abilities," he stated.

Tonks nodded. She could have provided several examples, but was running out of time, and didn't want that to become yet another excuse.

"Let's make a deal," she suggested. "I'll admit that it's the wizard I fancy, and not his wand…although that's going to be damn fine bonus…"

"Not helping the argument, Tonks."

"Whatever…it's you I fancy, and not just your dick. Can you at least admit that it's me that you fancy…and not the fact that I can morph into whatever goddess haunts your wet dreams?"

Remus let out a deep breath as he stared at the floor.

"I fancy you just the way you are," he admitted.

Tonks threw the pillow that she'd been hugging at Remus, then threw both hands in the air and exclaimed, "Finally!"

She then spread her knees, held out her hands, and invited Remus to whisper what he had just confessed into her ear.

The werewolf threw out one last counterargument, expressing concerns that Tonks might suffer internal injuries if they shagged (given his size). She laughed out loud, and reminded Remus that she was a metamorph. When he asked how that made a difference, she made a fist.

And then she swallowed that fist without gagging.

After pulling her hand free, Tonks cheekily asked if Remus required proof for any of her other body cavities.

Her mischief was managed.

oo00OO00oo

AN: I accidently replicated some X-men names when I created some minor characters earlier in this story. So I used a random French name generator to come up with Sylvie Donnet, then checked the internet. Just a handful of name matches, so I should be good this time, right?